


My Angel

by Asgardianrugbyteam



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon Era, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 05:19:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7346683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asgardianrugbyteam/pseuds/Asgardianrugbyteam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Canon Era Enjoltaire Soulmates AU<br/>Grantaire doesn't want to be sat in the back room of a café, but here he is. He doesn't want to go back, but he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Angel

He gets dragged along to the Musain one day by Feuilly for an after-work drink, but he ends up sitting in the back of a meeting. A meeting that seems to be a complete mess with far too many people shouting around tables in a smoky back room.

“Feuilly, what am I doing here?”  
“Just wait, R, just wait. At least finish your beer. Then have another! And you have to try ‘Chetta’s-”

Feuilly runs off to talk to another man with more muscles than’s reasonable with an enthusiastic shout of “BAEHOREL!” leaving R to sit in a corner, not knowing what 'Chetta is or what he’s supposed to try, content to be invisible.

He’s not.

There’s a man stood in the doorway, watching, wanting to say hello but not building up the courage before Courfeyrac makes eye contact and he’s forced to walk to the front of the room. As he walks silence falls like a blanket, following him until you could hear a pin drop and everyone has sat down.

Grantaire lets out a breath. That was unbelievably hot in a “please take control of me like you took control of them but in a bed” kind of way. His hair was a halo, beautiful golden curls framing his angular face. R hasn’t wanted his sketchbook so badly in years. This is a calling, he can’t help but drink everything in.

Then he opens his mouth.  
Everything that comes out is ridiculous and everything gets contradicted by a phrase out of R’s. If he’s being honest it’s only ridiculous because “Enj” as everyone calls him is ridiculously gorgeous.

Eventually some ginger dude with worse fashion sense than Grantaire’s dead grandma tells everyone to get out, probably due to the fact that no one can put with these two shouting across 6 tables at each other. Enjolras storms past with Combeferre, the voice of reason, and Courfeyrac, the voice of… glitter. That’s what he’s picked up of Courf. Glitter and flirting. Mostly with Combeferre, but also with a nerd with freckles and a bad smile who kept insisting that he was straight.

R smiles into his beer when they walk past, then sighs.

He falls right asleep when he gets home, images of molten gold rivers and stormy seas dancing on his beer-soaked brain.

\---

Somehow, Grantaire attends every meeting for the next month. He attends every meeting in body, but most of the amis suspect he’s not really there in mind. His table is always littered with foamy glasses, and even Joly sometimes loses count of how many times Musichetta refills the one in R’s hand.  
It’s just easier this way.

This way Grantaire can pretend that with every typical argument, the feathery shapes he’s seeing are just hallucinations: he can pretend that the drink took him and he can avoid reality.

At the next meeting - right after his 12 hour shift - Grantaire doesn’t order a drink, he just passes a cigarette between himself, Joly and Bossuet. The smoke swirling around their heads adds to the fog of his thoughts, but it doesn’t stop him seeing Enjolras’ wings.

Enjolras is frantically gesturing at a map spread out in front of Combeferre and his wings - well his wings are gently folded around ‘Ferre, a loving touch juxtaposed by the anger in his movements.

R can’t help but wish it was him there in ‘Ferre’s place.

He can’t help but wish that over the past weeks as the crimson and aureate came into his view Enjolras had stopped looking at him with such animosity, he can’t help but wish that he’d actually make eye contact.

That was the part that destroyed Grantaire. The conversations and disapproving head shakes are bad but this is worse. His soulmate - he decides to just accept that - won’t even look him in the eye. Yes, his eyes are a boring moss green without the flecks and sparks people paint with words and pastels, but Enjolras won’t look in them. Every time they argue, his eyes rest just over R’s shoulder or above his head or to the side. Never his face.

Now Enj’s wings are spread out behind him as his opinions rain down on the group. The temptation to capture the scene before him makes Grantaire’s fingers itch and drum on the table. He leans across a gap to grab the rather full, surprisingly, bottle of wine from Courfeyrac and the freckled boy he now knows to be Marius’ table and takes a long drink. When his eyes lower from burning a hole in the ceiling, he nearly chokes.

Enjolras is looking at him. Not in the way R is used to. Enjolras is looking at him. Their eyes lock and this is all Grantaire has ever wanted.

“Put the bottle down, Grantaire.”

R doesn’t bother to resist. The bottle’s on the table and R moves his hand under the table. He’ll do anything for Enjolras, especially when Enj’s wings are fully stretched behind him and the man looks more angelic than anyone Grantaire has ever seen. The world stops for a moment, then Jehan coughs on his cigarette smoke and conversations restart. Their eyes avert, and Grantaire runs his hand through his hair, still desperately trying to sear the feeling of staring into Enjolras’ eyes onto his eyelids.

He doesn’t notice when Enjolras sighs and his shining wings fold around himself.

\---

Light slowly seeps into his brain, illuminating jumbled thoughts, pain and a killer of a hangover. He can feel a pull, the kind that he has never experienced before. A small noise escapes the back of his throat, exiting at the same time as he exhales the remnants of last night’s cigarettes. His eyes blink open, stretching wide but not needing long to adjust to the darkness in his usual corner of the Musain.

Unusually, there are people near him. There’s never anyone near him when he finally rouses from an alcohol-induced sleep. Never. Who are these people?  
His blurred mind began to comprehend the swirls of red and blue, the dots of gleaming gold and creamy lines. These are soldiers. The National Guard. He didn’t understand why they were in the Musain anyway, they weren’t planning on building barric- last night.

Everything came rushing back to him as he caught a glimpse of feathers against a wall. Enjolras. They were cornering Enjolras. Of course they had ignored him, he was a drunken stranger in the wrong place at the wrong time, obviously too inebriated to have taken part in the rebellion. Enjolras, on the other hand. He is the shining, fearless leader and the prize the Guard really wanted. Where were the amis? Surely at least one of them was wondering where Enj was? As his shaky legs raised his heavy body from slumber, he noticed legs on the floor. Bloodstained legs, accompanied by bloodstained torsos and the lifeless faces of Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Joly. And Enjolras is about to join them.

“No.”

Almost silent, yet loud enough for a handful of guardsmen to turn to him, and loud enough for Enjolras’ wings to unfold from around himself and for the man’s eyes to meet his for the second time in their lives. He cannot decipher the message in those angelic eyes, but he knows it is wrong for something divine to die alone.

Head clearer than ever before, Grantaire moves next to Enjolras.

“Do you permit it?”

Enjolras’s hand delicately strokes the edge of his wing as he goes to clasp Grantaire’s hand, and Grantaire can’t help the tears that begin to form in his eyes. As their hands meet and curl around each other, so do their wings. They are soulmates, they are soulmates, they are soulmates. He can feel his face form a grin as Enjolras mirrors with a smil-.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thank you so much for reading this, I really hope you enjoyed it. If you want to come and say hi, you can find me on my tumblr which is asgardianrugbyteam.tumblr.com!


End file.
